


Skirt

by IceMakeSnake



Series: HQ!! Verse A [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Frottage, I am not sorry, M/M, MatsuHana cameo but not the focus :(, NSFW, Panties Kink, Skirt Kink, biting kink, handjobs, the reasoning is so vague please forgive me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 11:42:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7843582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceMakeSnake/pseuds/IceMakeSnake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Oikawa wears skirts, so boys in skirts isn't a concept that bothers him. But <i>Iwaizumi</i> in a skirt is something he's never thought about, and once he sees it.... it <i>definitely</i> bothers him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skirt

**Author's Note:**

> Well my prompt was _“Can you write Iwaoi where Iwa loses a bet and has to wear a skirt and it’s driving Oikawa crazy”_ and needless to say, I got carried away with this one…  
>  I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted, anon. I have -27 chill.
> 
> I didn't think there was enough here that was graphic enough for an E rating, but obviously there's adult content. Let me know if you think the rating needs to go up.

Iwaizumi may be surly and cranky and gruff, especially with Oikawa, but Tooru knows that it’s 90% a front and that Iwa is actually extremely considerate and sensitive towards his close friends. So when he’s late to their monthly movie double-date with Makki and Mattsun, it’s anything but normal.  
  
Oikawa has his phone practically glued to his hand and he’s texted several times, only to receive a brief, _on my way, shittykawa_ and then nothing. It’s infuriating, and he has taken to pacing outside on his porch despite Hanamaki’s repeated attempts to get him to settle down and make some snacks or pick out a movie. Mattsun has decided to simply drag him bodily into the house when a beat up little car rolls up to the curb, and Oikawa perks up at the sight of a familiar spiky head in the passenger seat.  
  
But Iwa chan does not get out right away, despite being almost twenty minutes late, and it actually looks like he’s arguing with the driver. That’s confirmed when he flips the guy off, but before Oikawa can process things enough to decide if he should go address the situation, the door opens and Iwaizumi slides out of the vehicle.  
  
The driver laughs, “Have a fun weekend, Iwaizumi-kun!” And then he’s driving off leaving a cursing Iwa in the wake. It’s an unusual exchange, but that’s the last thing on Oikawa’s mind right now, because Iwa-chan is wearing a _skirt_. He’s got on his club jacket over a plain navy t-shirt and his regular shoes and socks and everything about him looks perfectly normal but he’s _wearing a skirt_.  
  
It’s dark blue and pleated and falls slightly above his knee, and his legs aren’t shaved but that somehow makes it better and it doesn’t look quite right because Oikawa has never seen Iwa like this before (he’s never had the chance and somehow that seems almost criminal now) but it’s like a lightbulb has gone off - no, it’s like it _exploded_ if he’s honest, because -  
  
“What the hell, Shittykawa?” Iwa-chan looks murderous, and it’s then that Oikawa realizes Mattsun has released him and he’s staring. Like, _staring_. And apparently it hasn’t gone unnoticed, because Iwaizumi looks like he’s either going to rip something to shreds or attempt to turn into Japan’s first human stoplight.  
  
“Wow, Haji,” Makki drawls with a grin, and echoes Oikawa’s own thoughts, “I bet I could fry eggs on your face right now.”  
  
“ _Shut. Up._ ”  
  
Oikawa giggles at his furious expression and the spell is broken momentarily as Iwa-chan pulls him into a headlock and grinds his knuckles into the meticulously styled brown strands. “Ah! Meanie Iwa-chan!”  
  
“Why are you wearing a skirt in the first place?” Mattsun arches one thick brow, eyeing their angry friend with curiosity. “Not exactly your typical style.”  
  
And none of them have said anything about it being wrong, because it’s _not_ and Makki and Oikawa have actually both been known to wear skirts from time to time, but Iwa-chan has never before today. It’s just surprising from him.  
  
He releases Oikawa to rub awkwardly at the back of his own neck while Tooru mourns the loss of proximity to those beautiful, shapely calves. Oh sure, he’s seen them before in shorts, and when Iwa is wearing even less he’s had an up-close and personal view of them as well.  
  
But somehow the skirt makes things even more attractive. It seems to accentuate the line of muscle that runs down the side of his calf. The way it flutters draws attention to the soft skin inside his thighs. The softness of the material allows it to settle _just right_ against the cut of his hipbones. It’s downright sinful, and when a hand tugs sharply on his ear, Oikawa yelps and realizes a) he’s been caught staring again and b) he missed the entire explanation.  
  
“Tooru!” Iwa snaps, and the sound of his given name in his current state pulls a legitimate whimper from parted lips before Oikawa can stop it. There’s a moment of surprised silence all around, until Makki whistles low and loops his arm through Mattsun’s.  
  
“On that note, I’m cancelling this date effective immediately. I am not putting up with Thirsty Tooru today.”  
  
Thirsty Tooru is a situation they’ve all encountered - usually when Oikawa has had too much to drink - and it’s never very fun for anyone but Iwaizumi. Mattsun offers no argument, simply a smirk and a wave as they lead Makki down the pathway to the street, Iwa sputtering uselessly from embarrassment until they disappear down the sidewalk.  
  
Oikawa has said nothing, because he feels a little guilty, but also because Iwa’s grip has relaxed but he’s still touching him, fingers curled loosely so they brush the sensitive skin beneath Tooru’s ear, and he’s liable to make more unseemly noises if he’s not careful.  
  
Finally Iwaizumi sighs and releases him. “Well, let’s go inside. I’m tired of standing around while you’re being a lazy host.”  
  
Oikawa pouts, but leads the way back into the house. “Rude. I was distracted.”  
  
“Shut up,” Iwa grumbles, much softer now.  
  
“Why _are_ you wearing a skirt?” He can’t resist asking while he pulls two glasses from the cabinet and a jug of juice from the fridge.  
  
Iwa sighs. “Short version, I lost a bet.”  
  
“I’m not complaining,” Tooru smirks, earning him a sharp flick on the neck. “Ow!”  
  
“Oh, I barely touched you, you baby.”  
  
“You could touch me more, if you want.”  
  
Iwaizumi scoffs and snatches his drink, turning partially away to try and hide the soft flush on his cheeks. The quick turnaround in Oikawa’s moods is nothing new, but most people would be surprised to learn just how shy about intimacy Iwa could be. Oikawa is the demanding one, the one who initiates and asks and _needs_. Iwa is enthusiastic but always reserved about it, but he can be that way too once he’s been coerced into action. Most often he’s content to let Tooru dictate the pace and logistics of things until he builds enough confidence to take over. But when he _does_ …  
  
Oikawa sips his juice for a moment, allowing his fantasies to wind him up, before abandoning it to pursue the real thing. He slides up behind Iwa where he’s leaning one hip on the counter, resting long, graceful fingers on the other hip and pressing against his boyfriend’s back.  
  
“Iwa-chan, I _really_ like this skirt.” Tooru grins as he breathes the words against Iwa’s ear, hand sliding down his thigh to tug on the hem of the flimsy garment.  
  
“Yeah?” Iwa’s trying to sound bored, but his skin feels hot and when Tooru brings his other hand around to rub at one of Iwa’s nipples through his shirt, he can feel the pounding of his heart.  
  
“Yeah.” Oikawa smiles fondly, pressing a kiss to the side of his throat and humming softly as he slides one hand up the soft skin of Iwa’s thigh and the other hand tugs at the half-done zipper of his jacket. “Makki made a good decision, I think.”  
  
“He’s tired of listening to us have sex,” Iwa teases, and Tooru laughs.  
  
“How could he get tired of such a beautiful sound?” The jacket is undone, and he takes a step back to pull it off and place it on the counter, practically purring, “you always make me so vocal.”  
  
Iwa snorts and takes the opportunity to turn and face him, sturdy fingers making quick work of the buttons down Oikawa’s shirt. “Not everyone enjoys the sound of you screaming my name as much as I do.”  
  
He’s not that much shorter than Oikawa, but still has to pull him down about an inch to kiss him. Tooru goes easily, humming pleasantly as Iwa’s fingers slide into his hair, until the grip tightens and he’s pressed toward the ground. His knees hit the tile a little hard and he winces and Iwa immediately releases him.  
  
“Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, I forgot about the tile-”  
  
Tooru waves him off, “I’m fine, Iwa-chan.” He flashes his blinding smile, the one reserved for interviews and fangirls and worming his way out of trouble - and most importantly for reassuring Iwaizumi. “My bad knee hit first, but it’s hardly enough to hurt me.”  
  
He places his soft, slender hands on Iwa’s knees and slides them up and down his thighs in short, comforting strokes. The other man relaxes somewhat, and his fingers curl back into Oikawa’s hair, running through the strands gently.  
  
“I’m still sorry.”  
  
“Okay,” Tooru shrugs, smiling softly.  
  
Iwa looks down at him with an equally fond expression, dragging his hand down the length of Oikawa’s chin to tilt his head up and bending to kiss him sweetly, their lips moving in a gentle caress. Tooru licks into Iwa’s mouth, swallowing the moan that rolls over his tongue, and drags his nails lightly up his thighs and back again.  
  
Iwaizumi shivers and pulls back slightly. “Stop that.”  
  
“I can’t help it,” Oikawa grins mischievously. “The skirt gives me so much access.”  
  
Iwa sighs. “You really like it?”  
  
“I _love_ it,” Tooru enthuses, smiling broadly. He’s all smiles now because it’s true - his mood did a complete one-eighty when he saw Iwa-chan in that skirt. It suits him surprisingly well, and it’s definitely something Oikawa will encourage more often in the future. “But I’d love it better on the floor.”  
  
The flush that explodes over Iwaizumi’s cheeks puts all the others to shame, and he worms away from Oikawa. “Perv.”  
  
Tooru laughs, reaching in vain to try and grab his boyfriend as the other man stomps determinedly toward the living room. It's always funny to Tooru that Iwaizumi is so touchy and shy; that he can flip moods at the slightest provocation, and yet Oikawa can't stop himself from pressing the buttons. He collects himself after a moment, carrying their drinks into the room and settling in beside Iwaizumi, who pointedly doesn’t look at him while he flips through the movie catalogue on the television.   
  
“Iwa-chan,” Tooru sings, and is answered with a simple grunt. “Iwa-chan, we can watch something later.”  
  
He slips his fingers under the hem of the skirt again, ghosting them upwards until Iwa brings his hand down on top and halts Oikawa’s progress mid-thigh. Their gazes lock - Oikawa curious and lustful, Iwa irritated but aroused all the same - and Iwaizumi sighs. “You’re insatiable and spoiled.”  
  
But he removes his hand and gives the impatient man what he wants, placing the remote to the side and pulling his lover into his lap instead. Tooru grins, pulling Iwaizumi into a hard kiss as soon as his knees are properly settled and working his lips open to delve inside with his tongue.  
  
Iwa tries to fight back the moan but fails, winding his strong arms around Tooru’s slim waist and crushing their chests together while heat builds in his chest and spreads through his body. He loves kissing Oikawa - it’s always hot and consuming when his lover gets worked up, like sparks and liquid fire between them as they try to drink each other in. It’s intoxicating and wonderful, and Iwa doesn’t even notice that Tooru has been slowly working the skirt up his thighs while they’re kissing until he pulls back with a quiet gasp.  
  
“Iwa-chan,” he breathes, voice husky and pupils blown wide. “Those are _panties_.”  
  
_Fuck._ “Y-yeah,” the man in question croaks out, pointedly looking anywhere but at Oikawa. “Part of the…uh…dare.”  
  
A change comes over Oikawa. It’s subtle, but Iwaizumi can feel it in the tightening of his thighs around him and the way his breath comes just a little faster and the air itself feels charged. Oikawa pulls his own lip between his teeth, just staring at the cute, baby blue satin panties that are now stretched obscenely over Iwaizumi’s swollen erection. The lace edging bites into the skin of his thighs slightly and the waistband gapes open a bit where the head of his cock is starting to peek out.  
  
“ _Iwa-chan_ ,” Tooru groans, and then his careful control is gone. Slender fingers slip into the panties and wrap around his length, pulling a startled gasp from Iwa's lips at the clash of cold and warm skin  
  
“Fucking _hell, Tooru_ -” he breaks off with a groan as those talented fingers work him over, Tooru’s lips landing solidly on his to devour his mouth while he builds Iwa toward his breaking point.  
  
The panties inhibit his movement somewhat but Oikawa refuses to remove them, too turned on by the sight of his extremely masculine boyfriend looking so delicious in such dainty undergarments. Unwilling to let Tooru have all the fun, Iwaizumi trails his hands up the pale chest exposed to him and rubs the pads of his thumbs over small, pert nipples, pinching and tugging gently.  
  
“Mmmmm,” Oikawa moans into the kiss encouragingly, nibbling on Iwa’s lips as he grinds his own erection onto the thigh he’s straddling.  
  
If he wasn’t so lost in the feeling of Tooru’s hand pumping his cock, now liberally slicked with precum and making the most lewd noises, Iwaizumi would be thoroughly pleased with how wound up his lover is, practically humping his leg and mewling like a kitten. As it is he can hardly keep from crying out himself, and he pulls his lips from Oikawa’s to latch onto his shoulder and bite down, muffling his own moans while Oikawa nearly screams and grinds into him.  
  
“Iwa-chan!” He whimpers, free hand cradling Iwaizumi’s head to his shoulder while his other hand speeds up, matching pace with the furious rocking of his own hips. Iwa sucks a dark bruise into the skin as he feels his climax approaching fast, licking the mark soothingly before tossing his head back with a sharp groan. He digs the fingertips of one hand into Oikawa’s hip hard enough to bruise while the other hand yanks him back into a kiss.  
  
The room is filled with the sounds of their moans and heavy breathing as they work each other over, quiet gasps for air when they part and reconnect again, the sinful sound of wet skin on skin. It’s too much, and Iwaizumi can feel his body tightening as he reaches his peak.  
  
“Gonna come,” he pants out quickly, before dragging Tooru’s lip between his teeth. The other man hums absently, fingers tightening and pace never faltering, and Iwa is so, _so_ fucked when their eyes meet and Tooru smiles and his heart swells with affection and then his fingers move _just right_ -  
  
He hits his climax hard, eyes slamming shut as his hips buck sharply into Oikawa’s grip and he cries out what amounts to a string of curses with Oikawa’s name mixed in. When he comes down from the high, he opens his eyes to find Tooru still right there, just as close but no longer moving. Both of them are panting and sweaty and destroyed, but it’s so good. They’re perfect together, every time, and Iwaizumi loves the man straddling his leg right now more than he’s ever loved anyone.  
  
And he tells him so.  
  
Oikawa smiles. “I know, silly Iwa-chan. I love you, too.”  
  
Iwa tries to pull him in for another kiss, a sweeter one, softer, but before he can, Tooru wiggles his hand free of the tiny panties and brings his cum-coated hand up to his face.  
  
“Don’t you dare,” Iwa warns him, but Tooru just grins wickedly and licks a long swipe up his palm before moving on to sucking on his own fingers. Iwaizumi is tempted to shove him off his lap, but just sighs in resignation. “You are the worst.”  
  
“Am not,” Tooru protests, sticking out his tongue. “Besides,” he adds with a wink, “I wouldn’t want to get your skirt dirty.”  
  
“Yeah, well,” Iwa scoffs. “See if I ever wear a skirt for you again.”  
  
Oikawa smiles. “I think you enjoyed it too much not to.”  
  
The blush rises in his cheeks once more. “Never again.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am full of sin, my friends. And this is some of my tamer smut.
> 
> I'll be dunking my head in cold water if anyone needs me, yeah?


End file.
